The Corner
by GretaPrewett
Summary: PreHBP, written for a HG First Kiss Challenge over at MNFF Forums Won first Place. Every Gryffindor has a corner in the Common Room. And Harry just noticed Ginny's.


Everyone had their corner in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Well not exactly corners per se, and of course not everyone of the 250 Gryffindors, but there were usual spots where one could find the same people every evening. Seventh-years were usually huddled on the best chairs in front of the fire, first-years usually sat on the cushions just below the windows, studious third and fourth-years sat around the tables with books spread in front of them, and various girls from different years were usually to be seen on the sofas nearest the portrait hole, giggling at the sight of boys entering.

But there was also a corner that in that cold February evening was –as always- occupied by a single fifth-year. Ginny Weasley could proudly say that she had her own corner in the Gryffindor Common Room. An old overstuffed armchair in Gryffindor colors was half-turned towards the wall so she could easily survey the rest of the room, but gave her solitude whenever needed. A small CD player, given to her by her father the Christmas before, lay on a small table near the chair –charmed to play in a magical environment, but only so loud as for her to hear.

And Harry Potter had only recently noticed all this.

It was true. He felt like he didn't know her as well as he should have. He considered this for the millionth time in a few months, with a slight sense of guilt. She was his best friend's sister. No. She was _his _friend. She had fought with him last year; she had consoled him so many times during last summer. And he thought that was excuse enough for him to notice things about her, look at her…watch her more and more as time went by.

He was brought out of his musings by Ron, who had gathered his books and the essay they had due the next day for Charms, "Harry? Are you listening?"

He turned and nodded at his best friend, "Sorry, I was just thinking of a conclusion to the essay," he lied quickly, "Where's Hermione, again?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"What do you mean? She told us she'd go for her rounds an hour ago with Ernie. You were right here," grumbled Ron, obviously irritated with Hermione's partner during prefect rounds. But I'm not supposed to know that, he thought with a small smile.

"Sorry mate. My brain is just a massive bog right now."

"Yeah, I know. Homework can do that to a bloke, "commented Ron lifting his bag.

_Well if only it **was **homework_, thought Harry to himself, frustrated with his own traitorous, confusing thoughts about Ginny.

"I'm going to turn in. Coming?" asked Ron, heading for the boys' dorm.

"No…no. I think I'll just finish the essay and then relax a little before heading up. You know…Occlumency and all that…"

"OK. Goodnight then."

"'Night mate."

Harry stayed up late, watching as the common room emptied, until the only ones remained were he, Ginny in her corner reading a book, and some seventh-years studying for their N.E.W.T.s.

He hadn't written a single line of his essay, when Hermione walked in, "Harry, what are you doing still up?" she asked, eyeing the Charms textbook and the parchment that lay on the table in front of him, "Haven't you finished that yet?" she demanded.

He made a show of leafing through the book in front of him, "Of course I've finished it! I'm just writing the conclusion and I'm done," he scribbled a few sentences quickly, trying to stay on topic so that Flitwick wouldn't mark it with a 'D'.

"OK, I'll turn in then! Goodnight," she turned and after biding Ginny goodnight too, made her way up to her dorm.

"'Night Hermione," he mumbled, gathered his things and went to his dorm smiling at Ginny as he passed by her.

A couple of hours later Harry hadn't fallen asleep yet. It wasn't a rare occurrence nowadays, but after last Christmas, aside his usual thoughts about Voldemort, his mind continually drifted to Ginny Weasley at night.

Regret and guilt bubbled in him whenever he thought about the past five years, that he hadn't made even some small amount of effort to know her better. And when he lay on his bed in the end of the day, like tonight with his hangings closed around him, a secret longing filled him. One that he hardly dared admit it even to himself. A longing for the warmth she had offered him in his time of grief. Her small hand in his, running up and down his back, as he sat with her and talked about Sirius…how he missed him…even now.

But she had chased most of the nightmares and shadows away. And when school started…her distance…that made him long for her even more.

He kicked off his covers, resigned that sleep would not come soon, and pulling the latest Weasley jumper on, he trudged down to the common room to contemplate some more, away from Ron's snoring.

As he walked towards the fireplace though, he noticed that Ginny's corner –the first place he had glanced at- was still occupied at two in the morning. He froze.

A soft quiet melody came to his ears. A slow song, a male voice laced with melancholy but with an edge to it, like an accusation.

What made his brow furrow was not the song though. Ginny's shoulders were shaking, as she sat with her back to him. He took a few steps closer and noticed her posture. Her knees were drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. Her vibrant red hair fell like waterfalls on her shoulders framing and partly hiding her face. Her eyes were looking at the fire, its glow intensifying their puffiness and the trail of tears on her cheeks.

She was crying. Harry's throat constricted and he made to take another step towards her. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong; when suddenly she spoke so softly that he thought at first it was his imagination.

"Why…why can't you leave me alone? Why do you leave me alone?" she choked as a sob took over her. Harry froze once again. Did she know he was there? Was she talking to him? His mind reeled. He breathed her name, but she couldn't hear him through her sobs. And then she spoke again.

"I can't…I can't be that way…not anymore," she ducked her head to rest it on her knees covering it with her hands, "I need you…I don't want to…but I do…" her voice was barely audible, muffled as she whispered those words. Harry just stood there, his thoughts confused, as if the slow song had lulled him into a trance.

"Why?" her voice cracked, and Harry felt a sadness in her words that broke him, "Why do you haunt me like this?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat. Could she be talking about Tom Riddle? He had never seen her so sad about anything since then. But could the events of her first-year still have this much effect on her?

But no, Ginny was strong. She couldn't be re-living those events after so long. She had told him that the nightmares have passed, and the only thing that still lingered was the desire for revenge. For herself, but for others also. For Harry's parents, for Sirius, for Cedric…

Then who was she thinking about? He seethed with anger in the thought that a man could cause her so much pain. He stepped forward again so he stood almost beside her armchair.

"Why can't you let me get you out of my mind?" she whispered amongst her tears, "Why?" she asked once again. And then her head rose and brown eyes pinned him to the spot, " Why can't you love me?"

Harry was speechless. Her eyes were accusing him, and all the regret and guilt he had been feeling the past couple of months returned with a vengeance. They stared at each other for several minutes; Harry's mind swimming with all the thoughts and emotions that her question had caused. The song had faded and total silence enveloped them, followed by a heavy kind of tension. Before he could pull himself together though, something shifted in Ginny's eyes, and he could see a spark of defiance in them.

Suddenly she stood from her seat. Finally breaking their gaze she gathered her things and without sparing another glance brushed past him and made her way to the girls' dorm stairs.

Something lit up in Harry's mind, and he realized he didn't want her to walk away from him, not like that. Not then or anytime soon. Before he could think it twice, he rushed after her and stopped her grabbing her elbow, "Ginny."

She stopped but didn't turn to face him, "Don't Harry," she warned, "Don't you dare feel sorry for me. Forget this. Just go and tomorrow it'll all be normal again," she added in a resigned voice.

"Forget this? You were crying- Ginny…please look at me," he said, tugging at her elbow.

She tried to pry her arm from his grip, but he held on. The least he could do after what he had heard was to not let them part like this tonight. He would think about the rest later.

"Ginny, look at me," he demanded in a more commanding tone.

She turned to face him at last, and the feelings of hurt and anger that still lingered in her eyes made him want to avert his gaze, but he fought against it.

"What Harry?" she asked, looking resigned.

His resolve to speak faltered but he pressed the words out of his mouth, "Ginny…I-why didn't you tell me?" he asked the first question that came to his mind.

She made a noise like a hollow sort of laugh and turned to go again. He let his hand fall from her arm.

"Don't go," he said quietly, wishing that all he wanted to say could be communicated through those two words. He was surprised when he saw her turn slowly to face him again. He moved a step closer, watching her wearily, but her face gave no trace of emotion now. He stopped when he reached her. One more step and they would be touching. Still no expression on her face.

Slowly her hand came up and fingers softly brushed his cheek. He saw a flicker of pain crossing her features. He did not want that.

He raised his hand and covered hers on his cheek, as she ever so slowly leaned to him, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted. He gave in to the longing that tortured him silently for so long, and closed the gap between them.

His senses went on overdrive the minute their lips touched. They understood each other that moment. More than any talk they had before, this was how they could communicate. Feelings passing back and forth between them. Hurt and guilt. Pain and regret. Uncertainty and longing.

After that night the Gryffindor Common Room was still the same. The world was still the same. The only thing that had changed was that a little corner in Gryffindor Tower had always two occupants instead of one. From that night on.


End file.
